“What?”
“It’s Gaelic,” she said. “It means, ‘A silent mouth is melodious.”’
“Did you call the police?”
“No. What could they have done? The kid couldn’t describe the man who had paid him.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “Sounds something like, take care, or you’ll be sleeping with the fishes. You should heed the warning. Do like I told you. Stay away from everyone who could possibly be involved.”
“Well, it’s a little late for that, and I don’t know who the hell is involved, anyway.”
“Maybe you should be keeping as far away from your ‘friend’ O’Hara as you can.”
She stared at him. “Danny was with me when I questioned the kid, and he didn’t identify Danny as the man who had paid him to scare me.”
“Maybe the kid took one look at your friend and decided he’d rather face the police. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe your brother is up to no good. Or your pal Jeff over there. Hell, maybe your dad is still fighting a war.”
“If you say another word about my father—”
“Can you get into O’Hara’s room?” he interrupted. “I bet you can. In fact, I believe you’ve been in there before. You might find something very interesting in there, if you chose to look.”
“What are you insinuating?”
“Me? I don’t insinuate.”
He was right, though. She did have a way into the room.
“Don’t stand here any longer,” he told her. “And think about what I said.”
She turned and left him, retracing her steps to the bar. Danny was onstage with the band. He and Jeff were singing together, an old Irish drinking song that Seamus had loved.
Josh approached her. “Things are winding down here, so I’m going to go. I won’t see you in the morning. I’m going to the studio to finish editing and get the tape out. You stay here, get some rest. Take care of your folks.”
“I should be helping you.”
“I have Michael if I need help. I know you’d like to see the tape yourself, but you know you can trust me. We’re partners, remember?”
She kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Josh.”
“Stay home, stay with family, you got it?”
“I got it. Give Gina and the twins hugs and kisses for me.”
Josh walked to the door, then stood there, waiting. Michael came over to her. “Maybe you should come back to the hotel with us.”
She shook her head slowly. Was she being a total idiot? He would forgive an indiscretion. And she would be safe at a hotel. Away.
All right, she was a total idiot. She was going to stay here.
“Thank you, Michael. But tonight my place is here.”
“I understand.”
No, you don’t, she wanted to insist, but she didn’t. He cupped her face gently, gave her a soft kiss and reminded her that he and Josh would be at the studio most of the day.
The crowd thinned. Further. Moira noticed that Kyle Browne was gone. Andrew McGahey had arrived and was at a table in conversation with her father and brother. Colleen came over to the register and rang up a check. “I’m giving last call,” she told Moira.
“Good idea.”
“You look tired as hell,” she said.
“Hey, we’re working hard here. It’s a good thing it’s your face that’s getting so famous—you’re getting some major dishpan hands.”
“It’s worth it. I’m glad we’re here. For Dad. For Seamus.”
The bar began clearing out in earnest. Moira saw that Andrew McGahey was gone. So was her brother.
Had he left with McGahey or gone upstairs with his wife?
At the tail end of the night, Patrick came back from wherever he had been. Colleen, Moira, Patrick, Danny helped Eamon and Jeff clean up. Then Eamon told Jeff to go on home, he’d been going above and beyond. Colleen and Moira suggested that their father go upstairs; Patrick firmly insisted that he do so. When they were down to the last few glasses, Moira told her sister and brother to go on up.
“Hey, kid, you worked today,” Colleen told her. “I can finish.”
“And I can help her,” Patrick said, staring at Moira sternly. He and the others had kept their word, not saying anything about the scare in Salem. But Patrick was giving her his older-brother stare, trying to be fierce.
“Please,” she said, “I’ve got some extra energy to burn. You two go up.”
She knew that Danny was staring at her, more than baffled by her obvious intention to be alone with him. He was all-out suspicious. She didn’t look up, just kept cleaning glasses.
“All right. But don’t get carried away here. A cleaning crew will be here in the morning.”
Moira nodded, and her brother and sister left. She kept washing the glass. What the hell was she doing?
Why did she just want, with her whole heart, to prove that Danny was innocent? Or did she just want that one last chance to sleep with him before…
…before admitting he was a cold-blooded assassin who just might be willing to kill even her?
She swallowed hard.
“That glass must be very, very clean,” he said.
She looked up. His amber eyes were on her intently. His features, taut and tired, were compelling and hard. The glass slipped from her fingers to land in the sudsy water without breaking.
“Well, thank God you’ve got such energy. I’m beat. I’ll let you finish up.”
To her amazement, he turned and walked to his room, closing the door behind himself.
She set down the glass, turned off the water and dried her hands. She walked to his door, contemplated knocking, but didn’t.
She reached for the door, hoping he hadn’t locked it. He hadn’t. He was stretched out on the bed, leaned against the headboard, arms folded over his chest, watching the door. He’d known she was coming.
“All right, just what the fuck are you up to?” he demanded.
“I didn’t want to be alone.”
“I see. You accused me of trying to throw you onto the subway tracks. You thought for sure I’d tried to knife you in that haunted house, threatening you. So sure, come spend some time with me.”
“All right. Never mind,” she murmured, deciding to leave. She was no good at this.
He moved with the speed of lightning, ending up in front of her, his hands on her, drawing her in. He locked the door.
“Hell, I don’t care why you’re here. I only care that you are.”
There was nothing subtle or seductive about him. He put both hands on her waist, pulling her close, then found the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. Danny knew how to remove clothing quickly. He didn’t fumble at all but found the clasp of her bra, and in seconds it landed on the floor. He lowered his head, his lips closing over her breast. Despite herself, the magic of his mouth, the heat of his laving tongue, sent currents of fire sweeping through her.
She tugged at his hair. “Danny…”
“What?” He mouthed the word against her flesh.
“I need a shower.”
He didn’t release her. One hand remained on her hip, while the other slid lower, roamed over her jeans between her thighs.
“Danny…”
He groaned and looked at her. “Great. I feel like Vesuvius, and all you want is a shower.”
“It’s been a long day.” She slipped past him, heading for the bathroom. She shed the rest of her clothing along the way, aware that he was watching her. She turned on the shower quickly and stepped beneath the hot spray, lathering with the speed of light. She knew that he would follow her.
He did. A moment later, he was behind her. The steam billowed around them as he took the soap from her. His hands, filled with the suds, moved over her back. Curled over her buttocks, came around to the front. She bit her lip, feeling the steam, feeling what he could do to her. She closed her eyes. He was an extremely talented and imaginative man with soap. Hands curving over her breasts, fingers splayed, erotically moving ov
er her nipples. Down her torso, moving with light pressure over her hips, at an angle over her abdomen, down, between her thighs. The soap fell to the floor. His fingers pressed, entered, explored. Her breath was coming quickly; she leaned against him. Felt the steam of the shower enter her with the rotation of his touch. She let a soft groan escape her as she turned to face him, the lather on her body covering his. He found her mouth, kissed her deeply, wetly. Her fingers fell from his chest, swiftly downward, found the hardened length of him. His arms tightened around her. She had been in love with him so much of her life. No one could do what he did. No one felt like him, laughed like him, talked like him, touched like him, made love like him.
She broke off the kiss, gasping uneasily. “This…is too slippery.”
“Slippery?”
“Yes, I’m getting out.”
“You wanted to get in.”
“I know…but…I want to make love, not break a leg.”
She stepped from the tub, grabbed a towel, wrapped it around herself and exited the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
She had seconds, just seconds. She dropped to her knees by the bed, looking beneath it. The door from the bathroom opened. Danny hadn’t bothered with a towel. Sleek, wet, naked and still hard as timber, he stared at her. She jumped to her feet, looking at him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I dropped my ring.”
“It’s on your finger.”
“I know. I just put it back on.”
He strode over to her, lifting her chin. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he said.
She stared at him. “Are you going to kill me, Danny?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, frowning. “Jesus Christ! It’s an expression, Moira. Look, do you want to stay—or go?”
She didn’t answer him.
He unwrapped the towel from her body. “Stay, or go?”
Her silence must have been the answer he wanted. He cupped her chin, kissed her lips. His mouth ran gently along the left side of her throat. Down between the valley of her breasts. He dropped to his knees. Hands cupped her buttocks. His tongue moved.
She stood shaking. She couldn’t do this.
Warmth, fire, staggering sweetness, filled her.
Oh, yes, she could, quite easily.
She gripped his shoulders, her fingers locked into his hair as she surged against him. Shivered, burned, knees giving, body rigid, going weak. She feared she would collapse. She forgot her self-imposed mission. He rose, supporting her when he felt her give, letting her fall against him. Within seconds they were on the bed, locked together, Danny aggressive, inside her like steel, so hard and forceful he seemed to have become a part of her. She melded against him, forgetting everything then but the sensations that rocked and overwhelmed her, the hunger, the need…the volatile, breathless peak, the eruption of climax.
Later, she lay beside him, staring into the darkness. This was so wrong. But she had to—had to—know.
“And to think,” he murmured, “my pride nearly forced me to make you stay away.”
“I need to go,” she whispered, a little desperately.
He rolled her over, staring at her. “Listen to me, and for the love of God, believe me. I am not trying to kill you.”
“We’re still in my dad’s house,” she whispered.
“I don’t give a damn where we are. I would have wound up sleeping in the hallway tonight if you hadn’t come here.”
“Why?”
“I think that someone did try to get into the house the other night.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure.”
“There was no sign of a break-in. My father would have noticed if there had been. Only the family and you have keys.”
“Ah, there we are. Me again. Go to sleep, Moira, I’ll wake you in plenty of time to get upstairs before your family wakes up.”
She could stay, she thought. And when he fell asleep…
“You’ll be fine,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I wake up at the drop of a pin.”
Tomorrow night, then. She would have to get back here while he was still at the wake. It was her only chance.
“I should go up.”
“You should sleep.”
“I’m still…restless.”
“Too much energy to burn,” he murmured. “Hmm…let me help you out with that.”
She felt his hands, the subtle caress of the tip of his tongue.
Soon she wasn’t restless at all. Just exhausted. She fell into a deep sleep. Dreamless. She might as well have been…
Dead.
She didn’t want to waken when she felt his touch on her shoulder.
“It’s morning, Moira. Time for you to get upstairs. And by the way, when are you going to quit pretending that you’re still with Michael? I think the next time I see his arm around you, or watch you go up on your toes for a delicate little kiss, I’m going to haul off and deck the guy.”
18
Moira spent the day with her family, watching Brian, Shannon and Molly for a while in the morning, then helping her dad make phone calls so everything would be perfect for Seamus’s wake and funeral. She made sure that the substitute band was coming in, since Blackbird had been given the night off. The group would probably be in with the rest of the mourners after the wake, and they would probably wind up playing. But they had all known Seamus, and they were all to be given the time.
The wake would end at ten. At that time, everyone would be invited back to Kelly’s. There would be food and drink, and no one would be charged.
When Michael called from the studio, she tried to explain it to him. “The wake will run from seven to ten. Colleen, Patrick and I will take turns being here during that time for an hour each.”
“Why?” Michael asked her.
“It’s…it’s just the way we do things.”
“So your dad is going to allow anyone in? Why doesn’t he just put up a notice that he’s having a private party?”
“Because…well, I think it’s a way to really honor Seamus. In the old days, Ireland was known for her hospitality. Strangers were never turned away. Seamus was…part of that spirit of Ireland. There were no strangers to him, just people he hadn’t met yet. I rather like it. I think it’s part of what can be so beautiful about the nature of the Irish.”
“Your dad’s going to go broke feeding people.” He sighed. “I guess I’m not Irish enough to really understand, but hey, I’m here to weasel my way in. Where you go, my love, I will be. And what you do, I will support.”
Tremendous guilt swept through her. But it would be good if Michael came back to Kelly’s with her when it was her turn to host the bar during the wake.
That would keep Danny from thinking that he had to be with her.
“By the way, the editing is going great, and the live feed will run from twelve till twelve-thirty. And you’ve got a great place on the dais to watch the parade.”
“Thanks, Michael,” she said softly.
“It’s my job, ma’am. Just my job,” he teased.
She hung up after telling him she would see him at Flannery’s that night. She was due there with her family at six.
The afternoon went quickly. Patrick and Danny were both in attendance all day as they readied everything for the family’s departure. Moira served in the bar for a while, then helped her mother, Granny Jon, Colleen and Siobhan upstairs; Katy Kelly was preparing a lot of food for that evening.
When she was alone with her sister, chopping vegetables, Colleen spoke to Moira softly. “You’re looking haggard, kid. You were downstairs again last night.”
Moira stared at her sister, startled.
“You’ve got to make a decision, you know.”
“Decision?”
“Regarding Michael. I saw him watching you last night.”
“Colleen, I just want to get through tomorrow—”
“I know. I understand. It’s just that…well, I think he’s start
ing to suspect something’s going on between you and Danny. He doesn’t say a word, but the way he was watching last night…well, you know, he is a man, and he has his pride as well as his feelings.”
“I just have to get through tonight and tomorrow. Things will be better after tomorrow, although…”
“Although what?” Siobhan asked, coming into the kitchen and joining the conversation.
“I don’t know. Everything seems very…strange, lately.”
“Why?” Colleen asked. “What else has happened?”
“Happened?” She felt guilty, looking at her sister, wondering if Colleen, too, knew that something was going on in the bar, if she knew that Kyle Browne was a Fed looking for a would-be assassin.
“What’s strange?”
She thought of the one thing she could say. “There was girl in the bar last night. I’m certain she was a prostitute—pretty, well dressed.”
“A hooker? In Kelly’s?” Colleen said. “Dad would be furious.”
“She wasn’t soliciting. She was just having a drink because she was afraid to be out alone with a killer on the loose.”
“What was so strange?” Colleen persisted.
“Well, she was talking to me, saying maybe she had seen one of the victims, maybe even the killer. But she wouldn’t go to the police. I think her father deals drugs.”
“Then what?” Siobhan asked.
“She looked into the mirror over my head and turned white. When I looked into the mirror to find out what she was staring at, she disappeared.”
“Obviously she saw something that scared her,” Siobhan said.
“Yeah, like the cop who sits in the corner every night ordering blackbirds,” Colleen said.
“You know he’s a cop? How?” Moira asked.
“Jeff told me he’s almost sure of it.”
“You know, once we get through all this…if you’re still worried,” Siobhan said, “I’ll take a walk to the police station with you, and you can tell them about the girl and what you heard. Maybe you’ll feel better then.”
“It probably won’t do much good,” Colleen said. “First, they’d have to find her, and this is a big city. Then they’d have to get her to talk. And maybe she didn’t really see anything at all.”
Night of the Blackbird Page 31